“It becomes my problem when some asshole thinks he can put hands on you.”
I’m breathless, trying to wrap my mind around his words. He’s jealous.
“I’m not one of your teammates,” I snap. “You don’t get to tell me where to stand, what to wear, or what to drink. That’s not your decision.”
“Someone has to make it,” he counters. “Since you clearly can’t.”
My jaw drops. “You arrogant f—”
He steps closer, forcing me back until my hips hit the counter. He cages me in with one arm on each side, leaning down.
“Watch your mouth,” he murmurs, and my pulse trips and drops south between my legs.
“You can’t tell me what to do,” I whisper.
“Yes,” he says, leaning closer, “I can.”
The air between us turns electric.
“And you,” he adds, eyes dropping to my mouth, “need to start listening.”
I swallow hard. “And what if I don’t?”
His fingers curl on the counter behind me. “I’ll make you.”
My thighs press together on instinct.
“You’re insane,” I whisper.
“Because you’re driving me fucking crazy,” he murmurs.
He’s so close I can feel his lips hover over mine.
I tilt my chin up, just slightly. Daring him. Testing him. I want to see him crack. I want that control to shatter.
He almost breaks. His hand closes around the back of my neck, firm and possessive, and for one dizzy heartbeat I think he’s going to kiss me.
My heart is a wild thing inside my ribcage, and my eyes begin to flutter shut.
KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK.
“CAPTAIN! GROUP PHOTO!”
Dominic jerks away like I’ve burned him, his eyes closing like he’s praying for strength.
“Don’t test me,” he rasps. A warning, a plea, and a threat all at once.
“Or what?” I whisper.
“You won’t like my methods.” His chest rises under his T-shirt as he holds my gaze for one last second. Then he turns and walks out.
The moment the door shuts behind him, I melt against the counter, trying not to collapse.
Chapter eight
~DOMINIC~
Tires crunch onto my driveway as the SUV rolls up, and my stomach does something it rarely does: it tightens.
